


The Miracles of Saint Seiros

by Acidus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Demon My Unit | Byleth, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:24:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acidus/pseuds/Acidus
Summary: In ancient times, Saint Seiros bound the Great King Byleth to stop her from scourging the land. Thousands of years later, the both of them must contend with the winds of change that have come to sweep Fodlan.





	1. Prologue

**Castle Erebus, Charon, 1173**

The historic Castle Erebus of House Charon had seen its fair share of battles, sieges, and political maneuvering over its venerable lifespan, but it was most well known as the site where the Adrestian Empire and the Church of Seiros negotiated the terms of surrender to House Blaiddyd to form what would be the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Perhaps the Western Church had been hoping for a similar outcome when the conclave was called, but Byleth found it difficult to think that Seiros would ever accede to any demands made by the ecclesiarchy of the Western Church.

No, scratch that -- she _ knew _ that would never happen. The whole event was pointless. The posturing of the bishops, the furious debates over theological matters that were all ultimately whole cloth fabrication, the unreasonable demands put forth that would be chipped apart, piece by piece in compromise, to somewhere near the true goal - it was all a farce. The church was Seiros, and she would be damned if she would let anyone interfere with her plans, even if it were the humans that she was supposed to watch over.

It was the third day of the talks, and as expected, there hadn’t been any progress. The conclave had adjourned for the day, leaving each faction to sulk and glower amongst themselves. Lord Charon had wisely roomed representatives of both churches in opposite wings of the castle, minimising any chance of encounter and conflict that could destabilise the proceedings further.

Tonight was a good night for a stroll, Byleth decided. The full moon had cast its light onto a cloudless night for maximum visibility. She was upwind of the evening breeze, so her scent wouldn’t be caught. Walking along the battlements, she could see the faint lights of the town in the distance, glowing like the embers of a dying fire, and closer, the torches blazing upon the stone walls of the keep. Guards of House Charon kept their vigil, but even from this distance she could tell they weren’t too attentive. There would be nothing happening tonight.

And even closer, on a terrace one or two floors below her, stood a solitary figure Byleth was well-acquainted with. With a single liquid motion, she hefted herself up onto the embrasure, then -- 

“It’s just me.” Byleth said, as Rhea snapped her head around, despite her silent landing. She had never been able to catch the saint by surprise, but she supposed it was just another aspect of their bond. It would have been a very short-lived and ineffective binding if she could have shanked her at any point.

Rhea’s shoulders relaxed, though she otherwise didn’t move. “Good evening, Byleth.” They greeted each other like old… equals, now. Byleth didn’t know if either of them had the capacity for friendship. “Did you mean to find me?”

“Just saw you down here, that’s all.” Byleth jerked her head up towards the battlements she had been on not a minute ago, while walking up to Rhea until they were side by side, looking out to the Oghma Mountains in the distance. “I’m sure if I had been away for longer, the humans would started screaming at me for ‘dereliction of duty’. Like if anything had happened to you, the entire Western Church leadership wouldn’t be purged tonight.” 

“I am sure they are simply exercising caution. The situation is rather volatile, and involves the leadership of the church.” Rhea didn’t look too pleased about it, but it seemed that she had long resigned herself to this fate. “Still, a moment of solitude is much appreciated, especially after today.”

A ghost of something that might have been called mirth twitched on Byleth’s lips. “You mean, how the Bishop of Gaspard stopped short of calling you a consorter of demons?”

The presence of Byleth had long been a sore point of contention in certain theological circles. It was agreed that the Binding of the Ashen Demon was a true miracle by Saint Seiros, but whether the demon should have been destroyed afterwards had been a matter of debate for many years. The official stance of the Central Church was that destroying Byleth would have been too dangerous, as she would have simply returned to the netherworld, allowing her to regenerate and return to her full strength. Many priests in the Western Church, on the other hand, felt that continuing to suffer the existence of the vile creature, especially in Garreg Mach, was nothing short of an affront to the Goddess and the Saint-Prophet. 

Today, these tensions had come to a head. Rhea had brought her along into the conclave in the past few days as a show of strength and a symbol of the Central Church’s doctrine, and today, the Bishop of Gaspard was finally unable to contain himself. He had exploded, calling her a bloodthirsty monster, a vile demon of darkness, and called for her public flaying. 

While the other bishops tried to calm him down and prevent him from working himself into a heart attack, Byleth simply shrugged and walked out of the conclave. She had simply been there for moral support. She had then spent the rest of the day at the nearby lake, trying to see if she could catch anything with her teeth. 

"_Yes_." For the first time, Rhea was - exasperated. “I have been trying to consider it from an external perspective, but I simply cannot understand how it matters so to him. Humans are so…”

"Impossible?” Byleth suggested.

“Difficult.”

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, sharing a mutual understanding, even if they were otherwise completely at odds. 

“Well, it’s getting late.” Byleth said. “I believe it’s time you retired to your chambers, Lady Archbishop. You have another fruitless day of wringing blood from a stone tomorrow.” 

“Cynicism is a wall that closes the heart from the Goddess.” Rhea chastised, but bemusement twinkled in her eyes. In response, Byleth silently proffered her arm.

Rhea took her in turn, and together, they returned to their rooms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard tries a little bit harder.

_Perhaps one of the most famous miracles of Saint Seiros is The Taming of the Ashen Demon. In ancient times, amongst the many demons roaming the realm, King Byleth was the most feared, and her power made the very land tremble at her approach. She possessed a furious countenance and rode upon a pale steed, and was heralded by a procession of trumpets and brass instruments. She possessed the strength of twelve lions, and could not be beaten with neither blade, tip, nor spell, giving even Nemesis pause. Like wolves and thunder she struck, destroying anything in her fell path. The newly crowned Emperor Wilheim I beseeched Saint Seiros to defeat the vile demon and restore peace to Fodlan._

* * *

  
“Was that--?”

“Did you see that?”

“It’s _ free? _I thought..”

_ Another normal day at Garreg Mach, _ thought Byleth, as she strolled around the monastery. Byleth didn’t need supernatural ability to hear the poorly hidden whispers and hushed conversations, and certainly not to see the humans part and scramble at her approach. After more than a thousand years, one becomes inured to humanity and its predictable responses. False bravado, contempt, and most headily of all, fear in all its delightful bouquets.

A King, even fallen, was due their rightful tribute.

The monastery was gradually becoming more lively, now that students were slowly trickling into Garreg Mach as the start of the school year approached. Apparently the heirs of the Adrestian Empire, the Holy Kingdom, _ and _ the Leicester Alliance would have a seat in the classrooms this year. In response, the Knights of Seiros had been beefing up their security details: it would be a poor showing on the Church’s part if any of the heirs had met with an unfortunate end on their watch. 

Some of the more foolhardy students, in the meantime, had taken it upon themselves to challenge her directly. It was almost tradition, really, and she had learned long ago that it was simply easier to entertain these whelps, and then completely crush them. Not lethally, of course - the humans would be such pests about it. Just enough force for a trip to the infirmary and a few days to dwell upon their own foolishness.

Even with the Crest of Seiros inlaid on the silver collar on her neck, and the actual Crest of binding indelible on her skin, she was still more than a match for any warrior, or indeed, any army in Garreg Mach. Her presence in the monastery was controversial in itself, and amidst the rising tensions between the Western Church and the Central Church in recent years, it had meant that she had been relegated to being an instructor and a professor to the Knights of Seiros and the students.

_ “Rhea, please tell me you have not lost your mind!” Seteth argued with her in the advisory room, pacing back and forth agitatedly. “It is bad enough that that - thing - roams free, instead of being safely secured in a containment cell. Now you have her teaching our knights and worse, our students?! Have you even considered the influence it would have--!” _

_ “I have.” Rhea cuts him off sharply. “Consider this in return, Seteth - I am the one who has bound her. I feel every attempt she has made at tugging the lead, at convincing me to give her more space to operate. She pulls, and I hold.” _

_ Rhea’s hands hover and linger over her chest, where the both of them know her Crest is manifested, a physical proof of her bondage of Byleth. _

_ “But if she has something else to focus on, it will be easier for us all… if not for the fact that I will finally have a moment's peace.” _

_ Seteth stiffened, and stared at her for a while. Eventually, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not approve of this. It is openly courting disaster.” _

_ “If nothing else, Byleth will be less destructive. The soldiers she trains spend almost as much time in the infirmary as they do on the field.” _

_ Her brother scoffed. “You make it sound like she is an ill-disciplined pup, rather than the muzzled wolf that she is. Make no mistake, Rhea. One day, her leash will snap, and we will all have to answer for it.” _

She had made her way to the council room, and noticed that all the other teaching staff had already gathered, seated around Seteth. The castellan’s eyes narrowed at her approach. 

“Now that Byleth has seen fit to grace us with her presence, we may begin the briefing.” Byleth simply took the closest seat; she didn’t see how it was important that she was punctual, or that she had to attend every staff meeting. If there was important information, it would be relayed to her again. Seteth had never liked or even trusted her, but she didn’t need anything of him. She had Seiros’ confidence.

She would have skipped this one too, but Seteth’s head would have exploded from anger. Now that was a most amusing thought.

“We are a few weeks ahead of the start of the academic year, so if there is still anything you anticipate needing, or implementing into your teaching plan, there is still time to have it delivered to the monastery by the start of the Great Tree Moon. Please be sure to submit the appropriate request forms within this week. As we will be having a number of VIPs this year, please be sure to observe the new security protocols, especially for house professors…”

Seteth droned on, and Byleth listened on with the most utmost agony. Surely there wasn’t that much to say about instruction? She had figured out her training plan a long time ago: actually watch them fight, and then figure something out. Yet everyone else had so much to say, as if plans ever survived contact with the enemy. 

“Byleth.” Seteth’s voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to reality. “You have yet to inform any of us of your plans for the upcoming academic year. Is there anything you would have to say?"

Byleth shrugged. "I don't have anything concrete to work out at this time. Once I meet my students and get to know how they fight, I will be able to assess their strengths and weaknesses, then I'll be able to develop a training regimen for them."

“...surely you have more planned for your position than participating in combat…?” He questioned wearily. Of course, he already knew the answer.

"They're here to be officers." Byleth folded her arms in her lap and leaned back in her chair, the exact way she knew annoyed Seteth. "I'm an instructor, not a governess."

The demon ignored him for the rest of the meeting, which still lasted much too long. When she sensed that the meeting was wrapping up, she got up to leave, but -

“Byleth, a minute of your time. I have something to discuss with you.”

She threw her hands up in disgust. Seteth should consider naming himself Bessie in his next identity, because he was such a nag.

The other teachers had cleared out fairly quickly, perhaps not wishing to linger too long in their presence. Seteth spoke once he was sure no one was in earshot. 

“Let me make it clear, demon. That you are free is purely by the indulgence of the archbishop alone. I suggest you take your position more seriously, lest Rhea has no choice but to terminate your privileges."

The familiar urge to laugh at him tickled at her throat, but she had a better idea. "Does it burn you, Cichol? Does it gall you to know that Seiros trusts me so?"

Does it gnaw at him that she had been at Seiros' side for the last thousand years, and he had not? 

"Do not use that name, _ filth _." He hisses out through gritted teeth. "You have no right to speak thusly, not now, not ever."

"The name of the saint?" She smiles, colder than the iciest wastes of Cania.

“We are done here.” Seteth turns away from her abruptly, making to leave. “Know your place, demon, and you may yet see another moonrise.“

Poor, ignorant _Cichol_.

* * *

  
Two weeks before the start of the Great Tree Moon, the heirs raise the idea of organising a hunt on the next weekend, in the game-rich forests neighbouring the monastery. The idea was that combat proficiency amongst the incoming students were fairly uneven, with some already being experienced warriors on one hand, and others being complete novices, and that it would be a relatively safe way for students to practice on living targets. 

It’s not a bad idea, and the cooks would be happy for the extra meat. The professors and a squad of Knights are sent with them to watch over them, but as Hanneman and Manuela’s attention had been drawn elsewhere that week, it thus fell to Byleth to watch over them. This close to the monastery, and in the presence of the Knights of Seiros, even Seteth thought it had been an acceptable risk for Byleth to accompany the students. 

Their base camp had been prepared over the course of the week, and thus when Byleth and the students had made the trek to the camp site in the weak rays of the misty, early morning, there were already wooden racks, filled with iron weapons, posts for the horses and pegasi, and target dummies.

Byleth quickly got to work. "Those with combat experience, to my left. Those without, to my right. Don't lie or pretend you have fought if you haven't, because I will know, and I promise, it will be much more embarrassing for you."

The group already experienced in combat turned out to be bigger, but there was still a significant number of students that weren't. Byleth nodded at the group on her left. "Weapons are on the racks. Grab your preferred weapon, mount up if you're trained to ride, and start your warmups with Alois. Get going.”

She dismissed them with a sharp snap of her wrist, and they hurried off towards the weapons tent. Byleth then turned to the neophytes, who were a general mix of nervousness, apprehension - and excitement. “You will be attached to a team consisting of two other experienced students and a Knight. Don’t worry if this is your first time on the field. If you bag something, great. If you don’t, doesn’t matter. Your job today is to get a feel of fighting in a field environment, against live, moving targets.” 

A hand shot up. “Sorry,” called out a male student. “Couldn’t we accomplish that with mock battles against each other, or against the Knights?”

“Mock battles lack the tension of a real battle.” Byleth answered. “There’s nothing at stake except stung pride. When you truly have something on the line, you’ll give everything to win. To fear loss is to know the heart of battle.”

Seeing the looks on the students’ faces, she continued. “Well, it’s not going to be that serious. But the prospect of failure is sufficient motivation. It’s just that it’s not going to be a matter of life and death today.”

The group trailed her as she went to the tents to pick out their weapons. Byleth picked up an iron sword, and fit the scabbard in the straps of her belt. If she wanted to demonstrate anything to the students, let it be with the same, ordinary weapons that they used. The novices began warming up with the target dummies, and Byleth spent the next thirty minutes correcting their stances, adjusting their posture, and advising them how to better wield their weapon. For the mages, she focused more on helping them focus on weaving the components and channelling energy to form a coherent spell.

The students turned out to be fairly well trained, just inexperienced. Byleth decided to assign the groups for the students, tailoring the composition to include at least an archer, a mage or a mounted unit in each group. An archer or a mage would obviously be ideal for ambushing prey from afar, but if there were no ranged fighters in a group, the equestrian could use hunting dogs to flush out their target and drive it right into the melee fighters’ reach. 

While Byleth had been assigning the groups, Edelgard approached Dimitri and Claude, an amused gleam in her eye.

“Gentlemen, care for a little competition?”

“Hey, wasn’t this whole thing your idea to begin with?” Claude complains jokingly, folding his arms behind his head. “Trust you to turn around and make it a competition! But, hey, I’m all ears.”

“Well, how could I possibly refuse?” Dimitri laughs gently. “Let us hear the terms of this challenge, Edelgard.” 

“We will split into our own groups, then see who can hunt the _ biggest _ game. I know Claude would bring back a hundred hares if I said the most.” The dark-haired boy grinned, not even bothering to take offense. It was true enough. “If there is a deadlock, we’ll ask a Knight to be the judge.” 

“That seems straightforward enough to me.” Dimitri replied. “How long will we have?”

“Three hours. We will start at the same time, but start at different sites within the hunting area, so we do not run into one another, or startle any nearby game. Sabotage is not very sportsmanlike, after all.” 

"Then it is decided." Dimitri gives the two of them his most winsome smile. "May the best hunter win."

* * *

  
Shamir’s group is the first to return, bearing a buck in tow. The arrowhead of a single arrow jutted out of its skull, showing a clean, piercing shot. “You didn’t hunt it for them, I hope.” Byleth jests. 

“Tempting as the thought may have been at times, I didn’t.” Shamir smiles ever so slightly, and she motions the muscular boy in the group to bring the body over to one of the tents for cleaning. “That was Ashe’s shot. He isn’t half bad.”

“Ah… I just got lucky.” The freckled boy blushes, looking pleased at the praise nonetheless. “Miss Shamir is an excellent tracker. She basically found the buck for us.” 

“Maybe, but you had a half second to make such a difficult shot. Don't sell yourself short." Ashe reddens even further, and he suddenly looks very interested in helping to clean the deer.

Other groups trickle slowly back to camp, reporting varying levels of success. Partridges, pheasants, deer, and even a couple of boars. Some teams found nothing, and Byleth consoled them, telling them that it wasn’t out of the ordinary, especially since they may not have been experienced in the hunt.

The tang of blood and viscera was thick in the air now. Many students looked a bit queasy, but Byleth took deep lungfuls. Animal blood, perhaps, but blood nonetheless. She would have to content herself with that.

The mist that had blanketed the area all morning was now developing into a thick fog. Byleth frowned. Skilled hunters would be hard-pressed to find anything in this weather, let alone any other teams that were still out there. Though she had already told the Knights to bring their charges back to camp if visibility had dipped too low, there was still one problem.

"Have you seen the heirs? They must be returning by now." She asked Alois.

"I haven't seen them anywhere since they left." The usually jovial knight was worrying his lip. "There weren’t enough knights to escort all the groups, and they insisted that they could handle themselves, since it's really quite safe around these parts. You don't suppose..."

"I can't rule it out." Byleth jogged on to the edge of the forest, the older knight following after her. "I'll find them. It will be difficult for you all to find _ anything _ in this weather. Get the Knights ready. I'll send up a signal once I find something."

Alois started to speak, but Byleth had already dashed into the woods before he could get out a word. The wind whipped her hair and cloak into a frenzy as she burned through distance at a dizzying speed. Had she retained human senses, she would have long ran into a tree, but now she focused on the heirs’ scent. There were so many conflicting scents, blood the heaviest of all, but she focuses on the scent of _ carnations, leather, light oil, blood that runs down her chin, hot and sticky like sugar water and juices and saliva... _

She found the princeling first, fending off bandits. Many of their assailants’ bodies littered the floor, but it was clear that he and his team were outnumbered. Byleth's blade was out of its sheath before the bandit closest to her could strike, and she slashed outwards in a wide arc. The edge of her weapon cut through his leathers, and she seizes the momentum from her swing to thrust her blade forward, burying it into his chest and puncturing his lung. She twisted her sword and ripped it out of his body, and the bandit fell, gurgling as he quickly breathed his last.

How long it had been since she had watched the light fade out of her enemy’s eyes! The scent of iron and copper and fear and death was a fragrance delectable beyond words. She quickly cast her eyes around and counted another four, five bandits. It would be trivial to cut them all down.

“Professor!” The princeling shouts, and his companions, a tall, dark Duscur boy and a girl with her hair in a blonde braid, visibly sagged with relief at her arrival. “We were not sure how much longer we could have held out--!”

“Save it for later.” Byleth snarls, plunging her blade into another bandit’s neck, almost decapitating him with the force of her blow. The three students retreat and rally around her, and fight with renewed vigour. With the aid of the professor, they made short work of their attackers. 

Breathing heavily, the princeling turns to Byleth. “T...thank you, professor.” He pants. ”We had been stalking a boar, when it suddenly caught fright and ran away. The next thing we knew, we were beset by those brigands. There were about ten, I think.”

“You three did very well in fending them off.” She commended, knowing they had done well for being ambushed by a significantly larger force. “What's your condition?”

Dedue (the Duscur boy) had been the most badly injured as he had acted as his lord’s shield, but the other two were not much better off. Ingrid (the blonde braid girl) was heavily concussed from a blow to the head, and Dimitri (the princeling)'s armour was smashed in multiple places where he had been hit with a mace. Dedue sat upright on the forest floor, supporting himself with his battered shield and trying not to put weight on his left leg, which was most definitely fractured. Byleth brought out a vulnerary from her pocket, and tossed it at the princeling.

"You're going to have to split it among yourselves. I'm going to find the other two." She raised her left arm, casting a spell that shot a bright beam of red light above the forest canopy and high into the sky that would linger for about forty minutes. "Do you know where they might be?"

Dimitri popped open the glass stopper of the vial, and gently brought it to Dedue's lips. "Lorenz and Leonie were on horses, so Claude most likely went into the plains. I have no clue where Edelgard might be. I apologise."

"Just stay put. You'll be relieved shortly." They weren't too far from the forest's edge, and it was inconceivable that they would have spent all this time trailing a hog and still only be here. “Can you remember when you first ran into the bandits?”

“We were a lot deeper in the forest at first. When they attacked us, we started retreating back to base camp, but Dedue’s leg was injured.” The Duscur boy’s face was much less ashen after drinking the potion, though he would most certainly be bound to an infirmary bed for days. “We dropped our supply bag to lighten the load… and all our vulneraries were stored in it."

With the weapons they were carrying, Dimitri and Ingrid’s lances and Dedue’s axe and shield, she would estimate they had only been retreating for the past ten to twenty minutes. Without the advantage of being able to swap out behind another warrior to recover, there was only so long they could have gone before collapsing from exhaustion. 

The sudden appearance of bandits in the heart of a territory well known to be protected by the Church and her knights was much too suspicious to ignore. She squatted down besides the body of one of the bandits, and examined his armour. Leather and wool, yes, but top grain leather and fine stitching that would suggest that either he had been paid well enough to afford good quality armour, or that his warband was wealthy enough to equip their soldiers as such. They weren’t ordinary, wandering brigands that spotted an easy mark: they most likely were a part of a professional mercenary group, one confident enough to accept such a challenging bounty.

If Dimitri had been targeted, then it went without saying that Edelgard and Claude were in danger as well. Now that the princeling and his team were secured, she took off towards the plains, focusing on tracking the duke’s scent. _ Saffron, wyvernhide, rosewood. _

She found both Edelgard and Claude’s team at the plains, surrounded by the rest of the warband, which had banded together in a chevron formation. Shieldbearers formed a wall in the first line, fending off arrows and spells, while lancers stood behind them to attack anyone entering melee range. Archers formed the third line, raining arrows upon the students and forcing them to scatter, preventing them from returning fire or drawing closer. Dimitri may have been outnumbered, but here, Claude and Edelgard were truly outmatched. 

"Hey, Teach!" Claude called out, sweating just a little bit as he and two others on horseback rode up to her, followed by Edelgard and two other boys. “Not a moment too soon, we were really getting whipped!” 

“Your instruction, professor?” Edelgard asked as she stopped at her side, opposite Claude. Byleth could count at least twenty warriors in formation, and they had the terrain advantage. “Back into the forest!” she barked. “It will force them to break up into smaller groups.”

They didn’t waste any time in beating a path back, and Byleth covered their retreat, swatting arrows out of the air with her sword. As she had predicted, the mercenaries had broken their shield wall and divided into smaller squads, advancing on them separately. 

The students wouldn’t stand a chance against such trained, seasoned warriors in a straight fight, but they didn’t have to. Byleth quickly scurried up a sturdy ash tree, hiding herself in the dense foliage, and waited until one of the mercenary squads were passing by directly beneath her, then --

\-- she slashed outwards as she landed, breaking her fall on the back of a lancer, and cutting through the arm of an archer to her right. The mercenaries scattered around her, and that was just the opening the Golden Deer team needed. Bursting through the bushes they had been hiding behind, Lorenz and Leonie charged at the broken squad, while Claude quickly fired arrows into the uncovered flanks of the shieldbearers. Her blade bit flesh again and again, and yet it only whetted her appetite for more. 

She seemed to have given the Black Eagles inspiration. Now that he had enough time to focus, the dark haired mage cast a spell on the ground beneath the other mercenary squad that sent lances of pure darkness shooting upwards, impaling some of them and sending the others flying. Edelgard and the flame haired rider had also charged forward, and with the first swing of her axe, the crown princess had cut through the shield of the vanguard. The second swing cut through his neck. 

* * *

  
There was tension in the atmosphere when they returned to camp. The rest of the students were chatting nervously, not sure what to do while the Knights deliberated among themselves.The relief team had returned with Dimitri’s team some time ago, and they were being treated at the first aid tent. As the other Knights approached them, Byleth stepped aside to let Claude and Edelgard’s teams be escorted to the tent to be given triage, and went to speak to Alois.

“Today’s hunt is cancelled.” She began when she saw him. “Dimitri probably already told you, but they were attacked by bandits. Same warband seemed to have hit Claude and Edelgard as well. We’re looking at an established company, possibly not from Fodlan-”

“Slow down! I need to take this one at a time.” The older knight sighs, rubbing his temples. “Yes, we just told the students to start going back to Garreg Mach. Today’s event can’t possibly continue after what just happened. Once the three house leaders and their friends are well enough to make the trip, we’ll escort them back to the monastery personally.”

“As for the bandits… uh, I think it’s best if you debriefed the captain and Seteth yourself. Lady Rhea too. You’re the one that fought them, after all.” It seemed to Byleth that he didn’t want to be the one to break the news to them, but getting yelled at by Seteth was the least of her worries.

It takes about another hour before the healers cleared the last of the injured for travel. The journey back was short and uneventful. Whoever had tried to kill the heirs had clearly already failed, and any more attacks would just be a waste of time and men. The students spoke little, but Edelgard broke the silence as she broke away from the two Black Eagle boys and took a place walking next to Byleth.

“Pardon me, professor, but have you already given thought to which house you will instruct in the coming year?”

Byleth blinked. She hadn't ever consciously considered what house she taught. "No," she replied. "I usually just let the other professors have their pick, and then I take whatever’s left."

"Your skill in battle is undeniable, and your tactical acumen clearly reflects your experience. I know I cannot ask you to join the Empire, but I would like to ask you to lend your considerable talents to the Black Eagles come the new year--”

“Halt, Edelgard!” Dimitri protested. “The professor has taught the Blue Lions for the last three years. Is it not impertinent to attempt to poach _ our _ professor, at this time, right after we were all almost killed?”

“I’d like to point out that she _ did _ teach the Golden Deer before the Blue Lions. Teach also said that she takes charge of the remaining House, so it’s not like that means anything.” Claude helpfully interjected. “But yeah, you’re really strong. We Golden Deer would love to have you back as an instructor.”

To all this, Byleth simply shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t care. Ask Manuela or Hanneman if you want to talk about professor assignments.”

* * *

Once they had passed through the gates, Byleth immediately headed to the advisory room on the second floor of the monastery, to make her report to Seteth, Rhea, and the captain of the Knights. No doubt both the captain and the castellan would want to hear what had transpired, but the archbishop’s decision needed to be made before any major moves could be made. 

When she had finished, they all looked disturbed. Seteth was the first to speak. “This was clearly an assassination attempt on the scions. The perpetrator had knowledge of where they would be, and that they would be on a hunt today. The attack sounded like all three of them were launched almost simultaneously. As unsavory as it sounds, there could very well be a mole in the ranks of the Knights.”

Now the captain looked uncomfortable. No one wanted to be known as the captain of an order that didn’t just let an assassination attempt slip through their vigil, but that the perpetrator of that assassination was also a member of that order. “I can personally vouch for the Knights deployed today, my lords.” He quickly said. “I cannot deny that security leaks might have occurred, but the preparation for the hunt today involved many other parties. It is not necessarily accurate to say that the leak originated with any one member in the Knights themselves.”

“Regardless of the source, a crime such as this cannot go unpunished.” Rhea’s eyes flashed hard and unforgiving. “If there is a traitor, then we _ will _ root them out, and they will pay thrice over in penance.”

The archbishop turned to the captain. “See that you look into this matter, captain. We cannot afford to have anyone found so morally wanting in the ranks of the knights.”

The man snapped a sharp salute. “Yes, Lady Rhea. It will be done.”

He had marched out as quickly as he could without running off, and Seteth’s shoulders sank once he was out of sight. “It was not too much to hope today would have simply been a simple training exercise today, but it turned into a complete mess.” He sighed. 

“We have Byleth to thank for avoiding certain disaster, I believe.” Rhea placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one else could have found the young ones that fast, or defeated the brigands without reinforcements.”

A most conflicted and amusing series of emotions played out on the normally disciplined man’s face, and it took him a while to turn to her and speak. “I… _ concede _… that her presence may have been serendipitous.” He finally forced out. “Let us not speak of relying on a demon, however. It would be most unsightly.” 

“Byleth has aided the Church for a long time, Seteth.” Rhea chastised. “Credit must be given where it is due.” A pause. “Thank you, Byleth.” 

“Save it for when we find the culprit.” The demon said, already walking out the door. There was still much work yet to be done that it was premature for any congratulations to start being tossed around. 

But it did feel good to be recognised.

* * *

  
"A pity that the plan failed, Lady Edelgard." Hubert spoke, once he was absolutely sure no unwelcome ears were eavesdropping. "The demon's interference was most unfortunate. Shall I start drawing plans for dealing with the creature?"

Edelgard shook her head. "I fear that even you would not be able to do much to her. However, we now know much more about her than we did before. It was unfortunate that the mercenaries failed, but I believe another opportunity has presented itself. See if there is anything we could do to persuade the other professors to choose the other Houses this year.”

“All as you wish, my lady.” bowed her left hand.


	3. Chapter 3

_ In the month of the Horsebow Moon, Saint Seiros set forth to the Brionac Plateau. She stopped at a town called Tír Chonaill, and the lord welcomed her to lodge in his home. There, he told Saint Seiros of the demon Byleth. She cared not for whoever came across her path, be they innocent babe or veteran soldier - she slew them all, whetting her relentless appetite for destruction. The plains of Mag Tuireadh used to be one of the most beautiful places in all of Fodlan, but now it was now an eerie graveyard, littered with corpses, the rusted and decayed wreckages of carts and wagons, and roiling fog that blanketed the plains on all but the clearest of days. _

_ Deciding that she could risk no other life, Saint Seiros departed the next day to Mag Tuireadh. The plains were completely still, lacking any signs of life; not even wind dared to pass through. On the second day, the saint found the demon at a blossoming strychnine tree, the rotted bodies of ravens littered at its base. The demon’s gluttony was so great that she devoured even the portents of death. _

* * *

Manuela had decided to teach the Blue Lions for a 'change of pace', while Hanneman had elected to teach the Golden Deer. It left her with looking after the Black Eagles, to which she took no particular issue. Edelgard must have convinced Manuela, after all: the former diva had a lingering fondness for the Empire from her days at the opera. Hanneman, her opposite in many aspects, had actively avoided all associations with the Empire, even though she knew hazily that he was of Imperial birth. Ever since his arrival, he had chosen to spend all of the feast days that had passed in his laboratory, or at best, out to the cathedral to listen to a hymn or two. 

On the first day of class, Byleth met the Black Eagles on the training grounds instead of the classroom. Edelgard, Hubert, and Ferdinand (the orange haired boy that had been in Edelgard's team during the hunt) came first, and she had been conversing with Edelgard on the more specific details of the syllabus when a few unfamiliar faces trickled in. 

"I'm Professor Byleth." She said, once all the students were accounted for. "You there." She pointed her sword at a short girl with messy purple hair at the end of the group. She felt like a small, timid mouse. "Introduce yourself."

"M-m-m-meeEEE?!?" The girl stammered, her hysteria causing her to almost shriek. She looked like she was going to faint, which was not an uncommon occurrence in her presence, but if she could conquer her fear of Byleth, she could wade fearlessly into any other battle.

"You." The professor repeated, walking up to her, but another unfamiliar face blocked her path, holding her arm out in front of the purple-haired girl.

"That's Bern - Bernadetta von Varley, professor." This second new face didn't look too pleased, but she wasn't intimidated by the demon, either. "I am Dorothea Arnault. I hope you don't intend to start off all your classes by scaring the life out of those you teach?"

"I ask for only half." Byleth grinned, showing teeth. Her gaze bored into Dorothea's eyes for a few moments, then she turned her attention to her next target. To her credit, Dorothea didn't flinch - but there was a slight tremble in her clenched fist. 

The last unfamiliar face was a Linhardt von Hevring, who was yawning and leaning against another young man, who was grudgingly holding him upright. "Come on, Linhardt, it's our first day!"

"And so _ early _. Just let me have a couple more minutes..." He mumbled, but the young man - Caspar, thought Byleth, vaguely ferreting it from her memory - shoved him with his shoulder.

"Hey! I'm not a pillow!" Caspar complained. 

"Mn, you're not a good one, anyway. Too hard and lumpy."

"WHO'S LUMPY--?!"

Her class had some fight in it, which was always a good sign. "Focus!" Byleth barked, and the class quieted, some of them looking sheepish and others (well, just one) terrified. "There will be time for you lot to embarrass yourselves later. Daylight's burning."

The rest of the introductions went more smoothly, but Byleth already had a decent impression of the ones who had attended the hunt. Petra Macneary was already an excellent hunter and deft at handling blades and bows alike. Caspar von Bergliez was an otherwise good fighter handicapped by his complete fecklessness. Ferdinand von Aegir was a good lancer, in his element on horseback, and Hubert von Vestra was an obviously talented black mage. Edelgard...

It seemed incongruous with her image, but Edelgard seemed to only have learned how to fight recently. Her movements were fluid and she handled an axe skilfully, but they lacked that physical awareness, of feeling an extension of her weapon as a part of her own body that came only from a lifetime of combat. Her tactical instincts, while adequate, belied an inexperience that no amount of wargames nor training drills could polish. Her classmates might look to her as a leader, but no soldier in the Imperial Army would realistically take direction from her in a real battle as she was.

Today was a day to start hammering out a training plan for her class, so Byleth paired them up: Caspar to Petra, Hubert to Linhardt, Edelgard to Dorothea and Ferdinand to Bernadetta. To grow, her students had to be challenged, and she had chosen the pairs based on maximising the contrast between the two's fighting styles and how they would take advantage of each other's weaknesses. The demon watched them fight, Caspar struggling with Petra's agility and Bernadetta firing at Ferdinand as she ran away from him in pure panic and terror. Linhardt had been firing off his spells in quick succession, pinning down Hubert, who was forced to divide his attention between dodging Lindhardt's white magic spells and focusing on casting his own black magic spell, which generally required a few moments to ready.

Byleth stepped into one of the duels every now and then to correct any errors she had seen and advise what they should be doing to work on their deficiencies. Bernadetta was going to be a work in progress, but she pointed out to Hubert a few ways he could shorten the cast time of his spells. Casper, being such a close-range grappler and fighter, would need to be faster in his movements to take the momentum of the battle and overwhelm his opponent. 

As she predicted, Edelgard was having a bit of trouble with Dorothea, a significantly faster opponent. Edelgard was no slouch, but the natural weight of the axe meant that her attacks were slower. Dorothea was able to dodge her swings and counter with a stinging cantrip, or strike her with the flat of her training blade. 

"Stop for a second, you two." Byleth interrupted, and the pair stopped, Dorothea dabbing at her sweat with a handkerchief. "Edelgard, your stance is too wide."

"What?" Edelgard furrowed her brow, but Byleth was already walking up to her. The professor placed her hands on the young woman's hips.

"You're making your stance too wide to compensate for your lack of range. It makes you less stable and you're less agile when you turn around." She squeezed slightly with her palms, prompting Edelgard to shift her legs closer together. 

Edelgard seemed lost for words, and by the growing heat of her cheeks, she seemed to be embarrassed that her skill was found wanting on the first day of class. "Shoulder width _ is _ what they teach during training," Byleth continued, "but keep in mind that other fighters typically have a higher center of gravity, and thus need a wider stance to steady themselves."

Resting her hands on her student's wrists next, Byleth continued. "I noticed that you react instinctively and try to change the direction of your swing mid-swing. You must learn to suppress it. Once you throw an attack, follow it through in a circle-like manner to dissipate the energy of your swing." Leaning in, she guided Edelgard through a few swings, demonstrating how much easier it was to adjust her movements from one swing to the next using the momentum from her previous attack.

"It'll then be easier to make a parry or block, and then you can disarm your opponent with the hook of the axe blade, or throw them off balance. Dorothea, try and strike Edelgard." Byleth backed away a few paces to give the two space, and Dorothea darted forth, thrusting with her blade.

Edelgard quickly stepped to the side, but Dorothea was already swiping with her sword. She blocked it with the haft of her axe, and quickly shifted her grip further down the handle, sliding the blade up into the hook. Edelgard tugged - hard, and Dorothea yelped in surprise as she lost her grip on the sword and fell forward onto the soft grass.

"Nice work. You picked up on the technique up right away." Edelgard said nothing, though she seemed rather pleased if a bit bashful. Byleth helped Dorothea get to her feet, who looked chagrined as she brushed little bits of grass and leaves off of the front of her uniform. "Now, Dorothea, when you're facing an opponent with greater physical strength, here's how you can redirect it..."  
  


* * *

Byleth continued training the class in this manner for the next few weeks, rotating pairs so everyone had an equal amount of time squaring off against each other. By Friday evenings, they would be running on fumes from five full days of training, so the demon used Saturdays to run war games and talk historical strategy in the classroom, while also giving them a day of physical rest.

The mock battle at the end of the Great Tree Moon was typically a simple evaluation of students’ abilities to see how they would do in combat, but in lieu of her thirst for destruction and death, an all-consuming desire for victory had sublimated in Byleth. The stringent training Byleth had put the Black Eagles through meant that they were more than equipped to deal with the opposing Houses. They had been attacked so aggressively and quickly right from the start, that they had to immediately take the defensive, and from then on had lost the momentum of the battle and was never in a position to recover and start pushing back. 

While the other two were good professors, no class under Byleth’s charge had ever lost a clash between Houses. The mock battle was a complete rout in the Black Eagles’ favour, and to their credit, the Blue Lions and Golden Deer accepted their loss gracefully. The Black Eagles too were gracious winners, and Byleth wouldn’t suffer her students to gloat. A win was a win, but it was only one win.

The class celebrated together in the dining hall that night, cheering each other over dinner with granatus and clarea. They would discuss elements of each other’s combat style that had caught their eye, what they thought could be improved, and later into the evening, share gossip about each other’s lives and life at the monastery, but Byleth had not been with them. Instead, she had been at the knights’ hall, which, at dinner time, was deserted. She had been working in solitude and blessed silence for the better part of an hour when she felt her approach.

"Another year like this?" came Rhea's voice. Byleth didn't bother looking up from the grindstone.

"I told you before. I have no interest in fraternizing with every single class that passes through." Byleth tested the sword she had been sharpening on a piece of scrap wood, which cut cleanly in two. She wiped its edge with an oiled cloth. "I forge them to be better warriors and generals. That's about it."

"And yet a few decades ago you would have said any student of yours would either keep up or die." Rhea was only a few paces behind her now. "I daresay your opinion has shifted, and will continue to change."

"A broken sword is good for nothing but scrap." Byleth admitted. "But the weaponsmith doesn’t get attached to her wares."

"Is that how you perceive yourself?" The archbishop put her hand on her shoulder, but Byleth shrugged it off. “I find that a long life is best lived with company.”

“Oh?” Byleth rose to meet Rhea, sheathing her sword in the weathered scabbard on her belt. “Acquainted with a well-lived life, are you?”

Rhea was silent for a few moments before she answered quietly. “No.”

Byleth had a stinging barb readied, but it would only pointlessly antagonise Seiros. Sacrifices had to be made. "I'll consider it." She conceded. "I wouldn't consider myself good company, though."

"On the contrary, Byleth, I much enjoy yours." With that, the archbishop left, leaving her to ruminate on her words in the dying cinders of sunlight.  
  


* * *

  
Two weeks into the Harpstring Moon, Byleth had been summoned for a meeting with Rhea, Seteth and the captain of the Knights. When she entered the council room, the others had already gathered. 

"Don't start, old lizard." Byleth snapped, before Seteth could start. "I just finished my afternoon classes with the very same hatchlings you have sent my way, so be quiet for once in your misbegotten life."

“Byleth.” Rhea warned, her tone low in admonishment. Though she was often indulgent of Byleth, Seiros never brooked an insult towards Cichol while she was around. Her hand, Byleth noticed, stayed on Seteth’s arm, preventing him from rising to meet the demon.

Byleth didn’t respond, instead electing to sit a few chairs away from the both of them. 

The captain cleared his throat, and started things off briskly. "We have yet to determine the identity of the perpetrator behind the attacks on the heirs during the hunt, but one of our contacts in Faerghus have determined the mercenary company the assailants belonged to - Gallowglass. They compose mainly of Kingdom knights, but a significant portion of their ranks draws from other countries like Brigid and Dagda."

"Who leads them?" Seteth asked. 

"A former Faerghus warrior, Somairle. Common birth, no connections to speak of. They operate out of Gaspard." If these mercenaries were under the jurisdiction of the Bishop... 

"Upon your instruction, we approached the Western Church and requested their assistance in detaining members of the company for questioning in investigating the attempted assassination of the heirs. Their response, uh, was less than welcoming."

"Meaning?" Byleth prodded. 

"Um..." The captain looked truly uneasy at this, and he was evidently hoping he could gloss over whatever it was the Western Church said. "I... have a letter containing their response. I place it at your disposal." He produced a scroll from his cloak, and Byleth took it, unfurling the scroll to see.

_ "Captain Aedh mac Felim, _

_ I have received your letter regarding the inquiry into the existence of the mercenary group Gallowglass in Gaspard. The Church of Seiros takes only an advisory role in governance, and we would not be able to aid in this matter as Lord Gaspard alone decides what actions to take regarding his titles. _

_ Furthermore, the claims that Gaspard harbours such lowlifes that would threaten the life of their future king is an extraordinary claim that is surely backed by the existence of extraordinary evidence. If proof of such claims can be produced to us, we would act as the intermediary between Lord Gaspard and the Central Church and aid in rooting out such sedition.” _

“Only an advisory role?” Here, Byleth laughed out loud at the absolutely preposterous claim. “Everyone knows Lonato does not as much blink or sweat without the approval of the Bishop!”

“Not that any evidence we produce will meet their standards.” Seteth replied. “They would never tolerate any agent of the Central Church in their territory, especially regarding such a serious breach of security that may very well mean treason. Worse, they could twist this into some sort of attack on the independence of the Western Church or even Faerghus itself. Anyone in the area trying to find more information on this mercenary group might be regarded as an agent of the Central Church. It might be more prudent to leave this matter to be investigated at a later date.”

“Yes, and by then, the company would have scattered to the four winds, and the trail would have gone cold!” Byleth retorted, frustration bubbling out of each syllable. “The Western Church has been a serious thorn in our side for a long time. I suggest that arrangements be made for their cooperation to be secured on a more permanent basis.”

“No.” Rhea finally spoke, her demeanor serene though Byleth knew her to be pained by this turn of events. “The sovereignty of Gaspard and the Western Church must be respected. They clash with _ us _ on a great many things, but we are still of the same faith. We must do what we can to heal discord in the community, not take advantage of it for selfish ends. I cannot allow it.”

Mentally cursing her slip of the tongue, Byleth tried to salvage the remnants of her dignity. “Then there’s nothing left to discuss.” she scoffed. “Without the Western Church, Gaspard would never cooperate. The Knights of Seiros have no authority to operate in the region, and the point of contact for the assassination would either be dead or long gone. Nobody will ever know who ordered the hit. This has been a grand waste of time.”

Seteth watched Byleth leave. “Will you not stop her?” He asked Rhea.

“You heard her, did you not?" Seiros smiled gently at her brother. "In this regard, our concerns are her concerns. Rest assured, Seteth, that her heart is in the right place.”  
  


* * *

  
Byleth had stormed off to her office, but only so she could write a brief note. She looked out the window, and a raven stood on the windowsill, a insect in its beak.

Her eyes were upon it immediately, and the raven seized up, remaining frozen as she tied the note to its leg. Blood started to collect at the corners of its eyes. 

“_ Carry this message _.” She commanded harshly, and it jerkily hopped off the sill, recovering and flying stiffly off towards the west. The bird would die just as it would reach its destination, but that was more than sufficient. She simply required her recipient to receive the message.

Three days later, Lord Lonato Gildas Gaspard declared war on the Central Church of Seiros.

* * *

The three Houses had been dispatched to Gaspard as the rear guard to mop up any remaining opposition. The bulk of the Knights’ forces had moved a few days prior and blockaded Castle Gaspard, but there might be pockets of resistance in the sprawling forests around the castle, stragglers that had believed they could win. It was stupidity, of course, but much of human history had been built on vain hope. 

Loathe as Rhea had been to let Byleth enter battle, the timing of this opportunity was perfect. Finding evidence of treachery would be the leverage they needed to push against the Western Church and continue investigating Gallowglass. Hanneman and Manuela were also leading their respective Houses, and Catherine had been dispatched to lead the knights that the classes would be accompanying. The wielder of Thunderbrand had approached her at the gates of the monastery, where the students were preparing to depart for Gaspard.

“So you’re finally being called into battle, huh?” Catherine asked as Byleth was adjusting her horse’s tack. “Gotta say, I’m pretty excited to see the Ashen Demon in action.”

“Is that all you'll be doing? A greater share for me, then.” Making sure that the saddle was properly fitted, Byleth looked back at Catherine, a slight curve at her lips the only indication of her excitement for the bloodshed ahead.

"Of course not!" The young knight scoffed. "I just want to see what gave Saint Seiros such a hard time."

“Watch then, if you must. You may learn something.” Taking the reins of her mount, she sauntered off, leaving Catherine behind. 

Gaspard was relatively close to Garreg Mach, but it would still take a day cutting through the Magdred Way to arrive at Cambiac, the town below Castle Gaspard. Cambiac had been taken days ago, and they were to rendezvous with the Knights of Seiros and aid them in their assault on the castle. Though they were travelling by horse, the heavy fog had forced them to slow to a trot, the poor visibility making it dangerous to go any faster. The students chatted with each other to pass the time, while Catherine and Byleth kept on the alert, the Knights forming a loose box formation around the Houses.

"Why do you think Lonato suddenly turned on the Church?" Casper asked out loud to the Black Eagles.

"The Western Church of Seiros is headquartered near Arianrhod, so its influence is strong in Gaspard." Ingrid replied. She had joined the class last week, and was slowly getting to know the others. "Additionally, Lord Gaspard's relationship with the Central Church has been rocky ever since his son was found to be implicated in the Tragedy of Duscur, and executed by the Knights."

"His son… so, like, Ashe's brother?!" Casper exclaimed, shooting a look backwards to where he was riding with the rest of the Blue Lions. He looked pale, as if he had taken ill.

"Yes, but Ashe isn't related to Gaspard by blood." Dorothea joined in, riding up next to Ingrid. "He was adopted into the family as a young boy."

"So Lonato wants to get revenge? But why only now?"

"He never accepted that his boy was guilty." Catherine responded this time, grimly looking forward. "I guess it ate at him all this time. It would have been his 25th birthday on the 17th. Now pipe down over there, we're inside enemy territory."

The students quietened. Any subject that Catherine was this laconic about was clearly one she did not enjoy discussing. The omnipresent fog had now thickened into the consistency of cream, blanketing the forest in an ocean of clouds.

The sound of galloping horses echoed from the distance, and Catherine stopped, unsheathing Thunderbrand. Red electricity crackled along its jagged edges as it reacted to its bearer.

"Halt!" she yelled. "Identify yourself or answer to Seiros' blade!"

The gallop slowed to a canter, and out of the fog emerged a few scouts bearing the Church’s colours. "The enemy is approaching!' panted one knight.

"What?!" Catherine demanded, sliding off her saddle and walking to the scouts. "How close are they? What are their numbers?"

"Far greater than we initially predicted. They must have used the fog to slip past the perimeter around the castle." Again, there was the distant thundering of hooves, and Catherine swore.

"Looks like our mission just changed. Everyone, prepare for battle!" 

Many scrambled off on foot, grabbing whatever weapons and supplies they had packed, but Byleth calmly rode forward to the front of the troop.

"Lancers!" She commanded. "Form a shield wall, spears out!"

This was why Byleth had been dispatched. This was why she had been kept alive at all. Knowing not to hesitate, knight and student alike packed tightly against each other, weapon and shield in hand. Their overlapping bulwarks formed a barrier that blocked the only path through the Magdred Way. 

"Mages. Prepare your fire spells."

The soft glow of sigils lighting up behind Byleth told her that the mages would hold the spells until she gave the signal to fire. The thundering was now terrifyingly close, and the ground shook with the stampede of dozens of warhorses. It wouldn’t be long now.

"Archers! Curved shots. On my signal…"

Dark shadows started to take shape within the fog. Byleth raised her left hand, her right hand gripping her sword -

"FIRE!"

With a cut of her wrist, the archers loosed their arrows, the high angle of their shots falling like rain onto Gaspard's knights. Soldiers cried out in pain as arrows bit into exposed joints and flesh and many more clattered against their armour. Their horses slowed, wary of the impenetrable wall with sharp sticks pointing out -

At that moment, the ground they stood on burst into flame. Screams rang into the air as the rebellious knights frantically tried to beat out the fires on their armour. Panicking, their horses bucked off their riders in a bid to run from the conflagration. The heat evaporated the nearby fog, allowing the Church forces their first look at their foes.

Behind the cavalry charge had been Gaspard's infantry, which were now being charged by burning warhorses. The militia had panicked and scattered, their ranks breaking and many being trampled by their own mounts. Lonato's vanguard had crumbled, and the Knights of Seiros had yet to take a single scratch.

Catherine thrust Thunderbrand forward. "CHARGE!"

Avoiding the raging fires, the Knights advanced on Gaspard's forces, followed by the students. Steel clashed where the main body of Lonato's formation met the Church’s forces. As the Blue Lions broke through Lonato’s frontline, and the Golden Deer followed closely behind, Byleth briefly paused to speak to the Black Eagles.

“We will hunt down Gaspard. Follow closely, and in files of two.” 

The small group tightened into a column, and Byleth ignored her impulses and the battle raging around them. Pausing only to run her blade through rebels ill-advised enough to aim an attack at any of her students, Byleth cast her eyes around for any sign of the commanders, but found nothing.

"You think we're going to do nothing while you try to kill our--" The militiaman was cut off by a swift kick to the face, sending his sword flying and him sprawling into the dirt. Byleth dismounted, and approached the reeling soldier. The Black Eagles hung a few steps behind.

"Where is Gaspard?" she questioned, looming over him.

He looked up, staring at her hatefully even through a shattered nose and broken teeth. "I'd never tell you, abomination!" He spit out.. 

Byleth squatted onto her haunches and forcefully grasped his face, ignoring his scream of pain. "You are going to die today." She growled. "You can either pass, quickly and painlessly, and your family can have an open casket at your funeral, or we can find out how many senses a human can lose before they die." Her clawed gauntlets hovered perilously close over his eye sockets.

His bravado instantly gave way to fear and dread. A few moments passed where the demon could tell his loyalty to his liege wrestled with his sense of self-preservation. Finally, the soldier choked out, "H-he's with his honour guard, at the rear. But you will never defeat him, the Goddess is with him!"

"Good choice." Byleth quickly produced a knife from her sleeve, and with a singular fluid motion, sliced open the artery in his neck. She got to her feet and kicked his limp corpse, rolling it out of her way. Linhardt and Dorothea averted their gaze uncomfortably, but there was no escape. Better that they accepted the realities of war now, that they may be stronger for it. 

The fog was starting to lift now. Given how unseasonal it had been, and how it was suddenly dissipating, whoever had cast it must have been slain. _ Looks like Catherine is earning her keep, _Byleth thought as she struck out on foot. As for Lonato himself, he would surely be watching nearby in an advantageous location, perhaps on higher ground, or a choke point. All she had to do was find him.

As the weather cleared, it quickly transpired that Lonato had made no attempt to hide himself. Three mounted knights surrounded him, all bearing the standard of Gaspard, atop an outcropping of rock on a grassy knoll. He seemed impassive, as with his guards: they seemed to be content waiting for the Knights of Seiros to come to them.

Byleth turned to her students. “Fall back and regroup with the Knights.” She warned her class. “Tell Catherine Gaspard is here.”

Ingrid started, perhaps meaning to argue with her on how they wished to fight, but Byleth cut her off. “Save it. These are experienced soldiers you’re dealing with, not some villager who’s too in over his head or a glorified doorstop. Do you understand? If you face them, you _ will _ die.”

“I’m not afraid of death.” Ingrid challenged. 

“You shouldn’t be. But there are worthier battlefields to die on.” Byleth started walking towards Lonato, sword in hand. "If I turn and I see anyone still back there, I'm failing you!" She called out.

The Black Eagles laughed, but one by one, the beat of their horses’ hooves faded into the distance. Only one seemed to linger, but when she turned her head, they were all gone. 

Her skin buzzed with an eager, anticipatory energy.“Vile beast of darkness, you pollute the very land you walk with your filth!” Lonato snarled, raising his lance and pointing it at her as she closed in on him. “In the name of the Goddess, I will pass judgement upon you and the Central Church!”.

Had he truly desired victory, Gaspard would have never emerged from his castle, or at the very least, fled this lost battle. Instead, in the face of certain death, he defiantly stood his ground. He clearly desired a warrior's death, and Byleth would grant it to him.

It was over in seconds. 

As she thought, Lonato had been carrying letters. The first was unopened, still tied with cord and its seal intact, but the wax on the second letter had clearly been broken. Even in pieces, the shards still unmistakably bore the seal of the Church of Seiros.

"Byleth!" Catherine yelled, her voice far behind. "Did you find anything?"

Byleth tucked the second letter inside her cloak, and held up the first. "Just this one letter." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lonato's hands trembled as his eyes scanned the single sentence on the sheet of parchment over and over again. Long had he suspected that it was the case, and finally, he had vindication.
> 
> The Central Church would pay for their crimes. For their wickedness, their straying from the path of the Goddess, for taking his son away from him. The Bishop would set things right, once he was recognised as the true authority of the Church, but justice waited for no man.
> 
> He carefully rolled up the letter and placed it inside his pocket. He would have to prepare his soldiers, and no doubt the people would stand with him. He would tell them the truth, one that had burned inside his breast for the last nine years.
> 
> _Christophe died for nothing._

**Author's Note:**

> Multichapter fic. An Explicit rating, as well as a couple of archive warnings are planned.


End file.
